To A Waterfowl

Whither, midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far in the silent sky, or gilded blue, Wings its dark flight? The evening seems to say.

Into the hollows of the valley low, Longing as it wanders through the fading light, Onward all drifting, searching now to go, Permanent as are the stars, fixes in flight.

Resting gently, bending, there it stops long, Nature’s ear thus easily understands, Is there no sense in our own earthly song, Finding a home through brittle, sunny strands?

• James Russell Lowell